Minding The Gap

"Mind the Gap!" is a classic British phrase, announced frequently in Tube stations across London. It is a polite reminder to "Pay Attention!" "Check your surroundings!" Literally, watch out for the space between the train and the platform, which you are unaccustomed to, which changes from train to train. Travel provides the opportunity to step out of our comfort zone and familiar patterns, thus heightening our senses. We see life through a different lens, one that magnifies the details and helps us notice more. Writing does the same thing for me. Join me as I travel through life, trying my best to "mind the gap" in the adventure of everyday.

I stepped out of our flat this afternoon to find an overcast sky and drizzly rain. I laughed to myself at what classic London weather it was. Still, nothing can get me down today. After many prayers and petitions—not just to the heavens, but also to the admissions council and local borough—Caroline was offered a place at the same school as Caleb and Jack! Today was her first day, and it was with no little joy and celebration that we sent all three off to school this morning! It’s always a little scary to leave your children in the care of others, trusting that all those lessons and experiences you’ve tried to give them over the years will be enough. Hopefully navigating classes, teachers and friends at home will have equipped them with enough sense to handle similar challenges in a new setting. After a month of trying to carefully regulate situations for their comfort, we purposefully left our children in an uncomfortable place. And yet, I have such peace today that everyone is where they need to be. (Yes, I’m sitting in a coffee shop!) Really, our hope for this trip has been that we would all learn and grow by being exposed to new people, places, customs and experiences. I confess I’ve been disappointed that the kids have not been as enthusiastic as I hoped about seeing amazing historical buildings or going to world-renowned museums. But I suspect that their time in school will stretch them far more than simply observing palaces or artwork.

A word that has come up a lot this month is resilience. We’ve tried to evoke it, to draw it out, to build it. Some days it hasn't felt like we’ve succeeded in teaching it or practicing it. But as I sit here this afternoon, waiting to go pick everyone up from school, I’m reminded that resilience is only developed by going through. By definition, one must go down to spring back up, and the forces of nature suggest that it is usually to a point higher than the starting place! Charles and I have the benefit of having lived through a few hard places, and even failures, so it's only natural that we have been more optimistic about the joys of travel and circumstances here. For better or worse, our kids' lives have been pretty rosy. I hesitate to suggest that spending 4 months in London is a hardship, but it's really the first time (that the kids have been old enough to care) that they've had to start in a new place. Lest we get too comfortable over the next few months and forget, I want to draw out and mark the lessons we're learning. With that said, as I sit here writing, the sun is “litrally” (insert British accent) coming out, and I’m so hopeful that we’ll all be more confident in the future and be less reticent about trying new things having successfully navigated this initial challenge of getting them started in school.

Early this morning as I was running near Kensington Palace (I know, it's ridiculous that I can say that!), I imagined George & Charlotte, waking up and running around those big palace halls, maybe earlier than their parents were ready for them to. On one of our homeschool outings, Caroline and I toured Kensington Palace, and though she was disappointed that we couldn't see the private quarters, it was a slow day, and the tour guide at least told us which buildings the Royals live in and shared some fun stories about parties they have thrown in the State Rooms. Yesterday we walked around the outside of Buckingham Palace, St. James Park, and visited the Banqueting House, where they threw lavish parties, until poor King Charles I was beheaded there! Between being surrounded by Palaces and catching up on "The Crown" at night, it's hard not think about the Royal life!

​With that said, even the Royals go to school (not too far from us), and kids will be kids, no matter the country. Our boys had a great first week of school, and I was struck by how similar it felt to life at home. There's the morning rush to get out the door, the craziness of the playground, the parents chit-chatting in groups as we wait for the kids at the end of the day, kids interrupting conversations, "PTA" fundraisers, the 5 o'clock meltdowns as hungry and tired kids can't hold it together anymore, 20 minutes of reading, spelling lists and multiplication tables. So much felt familiar and normal, even though there were very clear indicators that we're in a different setting. I've been taking more notice at the park, on the bus, and on the streets of children and their interactions with their parents. I've been oddly comforted to see that children from all sorts of backgrounds have messy hair and dirty shoes, exasperate their siblings, get "hangry," and feel the need to run and yell when given wide open spaces!

Of course, there are also several obvious differences about school here. For one, in every school, private or public, students wear uniforms. I am such a fan! My kids generally choose their clothes based on "fuzziness." We live in fleece pants, cotton shirts, and athletic shoes, and Sundays are the worst days ever because once a week, I insist on somewhat nicer clothes. We've endured many a tantrum over clothing that is too tight or not right. It has been so awesome this week for there to be no question about what to wear, and the boys have willingly worn their dress pants, button up shirts, and "jumpers" (aka sweaters). Caleb and Charles have bonded over learning to tie a tie! We're learning about funny uniform culture too... after the first day they had to change for PE, they came home reporting that everyone else wears tank tops under their clothes! And who knew what plimsolls were? (I actually still don't, but I think they're special PE shoes...I'm still the American mom who sends regular Nikes). It's really cute to see kids all over the city walking, riding buses, on the Tube, in their uniforms. Even the backpacks have the school crest! I love how uniforms level the playing field in terms of socioeconomic status within the school. And almost everyone eats hot lunch (why not- a chef prepares it onsite using organic ingredients!) The boys ride their scooters to school and park them for the day in a special scooter parking area, which is policed by older students who serve as monitors. Since it's a Church of England school, they have class prayers and songs daily, a weekly assembly, and quarterly church services. I've appreciated the extra dose of British discipline- elbows off the table at lunch, zero tolerance for late homework, only fruit for snack. I'm sure there are still meltdowns, but I was astonished by how quiet 200 students were during the school wide church service. I'm telling you, it's those uniforms...

It has been an easy transition for the boys, and we're so grateful for the kindness of the staff, parents and students who have welcomed us. We consider our elementary school in Durham to be fairly diverse, but I've been convicted by how my status as a white, middle-class member of the inner circle of involved parents affects my perspective. It is so interesting to be the newcomer, the foreigner. I am bonus grateful to the other parents who have introduced themselves to us, as we are clearly new in the middle of the year. It makes my heart feel so good when a gaggle of kids runs over to greet ours on the playground in the morning or wave from across the street. It makes me want to be a better Ambassador when we return, to pay forward the welcome and kindness we've received. I hope that our kids too will remember what it's like to be the new kid in a strange city and be even more friendly when they're back on their home turf! ​​

Don't worry, even though our weekdays are becoming more "normal," we're still playing tourists on Saturdays, dragging the kids out in the cold and rain to see the sites!

I was planning to wait until tomorrow to post about our boys first day of school, and to celebrate the ways life with children knows no strict cultural or geographical boundaries. I’ve got some great pictures to share from our adventure yesterday to the Borough Market, the Tower Bridge, and the Tower of London. But we had this amazing experience at church this morning, and I just feel compelled to share it- in part to document it, and also in hopes that our experience of God’s grace might give hope to anyone who might need a reminder. I know I set out to write a Travel blog, but when the Spirit moves…

On our first day in London, we discovered a beautiful little church at the end of our street called St. Philips. For our first Sunday, it seemed natural to give it a try. It was truly lovely, and everyone was so kind and welcoming. The acolyte was a girl about our kids’ age, and her family sang the praises of the nearest primary school, St. Barnabas and St. Philip’s. It so happened that there was a meeting for interested parents the following Friday. To make a long story short, I went to the meeting, loved the school, met the Headmaster, spoke with the front office, and they had one spot available in Jack’s year. We sent out requests for prayer, and several days later we received a call offering both boys a place at the school! This past week, we ordered uniforms, met their teachers, and even had a play date at the park with several families from Jack’s class, whom I’d literally met on a street corner. On Thursday, we attended the school “Assembly,” the weekly time parents are invited to stay while a local priest/pastor gives a lesson and the children sing. We met the priest and his wife afterwards, who mentioned their 12-year-old daughter, and they invited us to try their church, St. Barnabas, in Kensington.

If you know us well, you’ll know that Charles and I met in a small Anglican church in Charlottesville called All Saints at a time when there were very few Anglican churches out there. We moved to Durham, NC, inspired partly by the fact that we could join a relatively new Anglican church, also called All Saints, which was a big part of our life for the next several years. Most recently, we’ve been attending a bigger Presbyterian church in Durham, where we’ve experienced God’s provision for our family through the love and welcome especially of a group of families we initially met through Charles’ crazy early morning workout group, F3. All this is to say, I’m a believer in God working actively through mysterious ways, and that we love us an Anglican church. We have been looking forward to living in the land of the Church of England (I’ve totally imagined wearing a “fascinator” to a fancy church service at St. Paul’s or Westminster Abbey on Easter with my friend Kris, who is coming to visit). We’re down with communion every week, lots of kneeling and liturgy.

So imagine our surprise today to walk into another beautiful Baroque cathedral (to which our kids rode their scooters, of course), to find it teeming with young families, and to see large screens and projectors suspended from the rafters. The priest’s wife saw us, and in her jeans and t-shirt, introduced Caroline to her daughter, who promised to show our kids to the Sunday School area during the service. As we sat down and looked around, we were struck by the diversity of the congregation, and the incongruity of the beautiful marble altar, the enormous stained glass windows, the band on stage, and the coffee cups in hand. As the music started, we were blown away. The classic older British gentleman (corduroy pants, wool sweater, white hair) in front of us lifted both arms overhead and sang. The black woman and her young adult son sang. The Asian woman on the worship team sang with arms uplifted. The French priest in a collar and blue pants prayed over all the children, and then my kids left happily with the others to go somewhere (I literally had no idea where, but they seemed fine about it…) I know this sounds dramatic, but Charles and I were hit with a tidal wave of God’s love and provision for us. Every song spoke of God’s goodness (Charles is not a praise band person, and even he was crying—though in his defense, he studies race and churches, and the demographics were a pretty powerful contrast to most American churches). The sermon, delivered in such a beautiful lilting British accent, spoke eloquently and intelligently about Moses and God’s response to our prayers, and Jesus as our intercessor. He even talked about how we are to be in the gap for others, praying for those around us. Brings a totally new meaning to my blog title!

There wasn’t one specific thing, but we experienced the Holy Spirit afresh, and God clearly spoke to us to remind us that He wants good things for us, and He hears our prayers and those of our friends and family who intercede for us, and He has more for us, both here in London and in life, than we can imagine or hope for.

It has been a challenging few weeks of parenting, as we haven’t known if or where the kids would go to school. We have struggled to keep everyone occupied, happy, fed, and engaged. The lack of structure and change of routine has caused them to be, let’s say, “high maintenance.” We’re in LONDON people. This building is TWO THOUSAND YEARS OLD! “So. Who cares about an old wall?” Needless to say, I was ripe for some grace and a reminder that God is on the case. To have my kids come out of Sunday School smiling, and ask if we can come back next week is actually a miracle.

So we walked home through our favorite park, stopped at the store to pick up a baguette, and came home to make lunch. Sure, now they’re playing on their electronic devices again. But, CALEB AND JACK START SCHOOL TOMORROW!!! And God was very clear to us this morning that whether or not Caroline gets into a school, He loves us, and is both able and desirous to provide what we need, and yes, even sometimes what we want!

Towards the end of the service, the priest quoted Matthew 11:28-30 in a prayer…“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” On this Sunday, may we all rest in God’s gentle care.

Last night, Charles and I had our first night on the town without kids. Or maybe the kids had their first night without mom and dad? I'm not sure who was more excited that Elon students were coming to babysit! At the pub, someone said to us, "You know you're a true Londoner when you stop noticing the individual people on the Tube, and it's just a throng to get through on your way home." This idea made me sad, but I realized that I function in much the same way at home. You reach a point in a familiar place where your autopilot can take over--literally, one can drive, do errands, cook, even talk to other people, without really paying attention to the task at hand. Being in a new place activates the "survival instinct" that causes one to notice more, to look for threats. Our senses were literally designed to help us survive. In London, we experience this every time we cross the street, and have to look the opposite direction to check traffic. Several days ago, my brain was in sensory over-load while trying to navigate busy streets with three kids on scooters, a bag of library books, and an even larger bag from the Department Store full of boys uniform clothes... It was exhausting!! However, even after just two weeks here, I can sense a slight dulling of the senses that comes with familiarity on the streets.

We're sleeping better this week, having made the transition in time zones and even the kids are relaxing out of constant stress mode. We received the welcome news that the boys will be able to start school here next week, and have met a few people at church and school. On one hand, I have the instinct to settle in, find my people and my routine. But I don't want to get too comfortable! I want to keep noticing people, architectural details, the way the light is different here, the subtle variations in how things are said. The challenge seems to be to stay just at the edge of my comfort zone, to keep my eyes open, to "mind the gap."

A perhaps less lofty challenge is to keep my children from killing each other or getting us kicked out of our flat with their noise. Fortunately, we are on the ground floor, but still... We've been experimenting with some Charlotte Mason-style homeschooling in the mornings, reading about the Vikings and early British history, and then getting outside for field trips and excursions in the afternoon. Many of the museums in London are free (though as the kids pointed out, you have to pay extra to do all the cool stuff... ) Still, we've loved the Museum of London (been twice already!), enjoyed a tour of Parliament, been to the Science Museum (cool airplanes, but not as interactive as the Life & Science Museum in Durham- we're spoiled!), the Natural History Museum (dinosaurs, whales, etc), Princess Diana Memorial playground (amazing!), and of course, Kings Cross to check out Platform 9 3/4. It won't surprise anyone to hear that Caleb is memorizing the Tube maps, and is an expert navigator!